Bliss
by Relatively Unknown
Summary: A vignette about Todd and some basketball. His views of life mainly. Little sarcasm, believe it or not! Plz r/r!


A/N: This is just a little vignette I thought up a long time ago. Started writing it, scrapped  
it, and now I'm writing it again. No real reason. Oh, and this is pre-finale, but after  
Wanda comes.   
  
  
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_Slam_  
  
  
I did another dunk. I caught the ball and bounced it around some more before dunking a  
few more times.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
This is how I've spent my summer. Every day, early morning to late in the evening. I play  
basketball. I never get bored of it. It kinda rejuvinates me in some way.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
I'm not sure why I started. I needed something to do, something that would take me away  
from the others and my frustrations. So I went to one of the old basketball courts that are  
on pretty much all the corners here in the Projects. I lived here before I moved in with the  
Brotherhood, so it's kinda like coming home to me.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
I never play with anyone else. Always by myself on one particular lot just a few dozen  
feet away from my old home, an apartment building full of thieves, liars, and actually  
good people with bad luck. I lived in with a woman named Julie-Marie and her three kids,  
Jonah, Marshall, and Aisha. They were my little siblings to me. It never bothered me that  
they were black and I wasn't. Colors, races, and all that is less than trivial.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
My mama left me there one day to be watched over, and she never came back. I was only  
four, the same age as Jonah. I don't know if she abandoned me or someone took her off  
the street. I never knew my dad. Don't really care anymore.  
  
  
_Slam_   
  
  
I hit another dunk. It was getting late now, later than usual. The sweat poured off me in  
rivers, but I didn't care. Gangs were gonna be roaming soon, and I was on the middle turf  
of a recent war. But I didn't care. When I play basketball anymore, my thoughts and  
worries leave me. I'm not the Toad. I'm not a mutant. I'm just there, physically, but  
mentally I'm in another world altogether.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
Here in my world, or absence of one, I can vent my frustration, my anger, my pain. On  
anything. Say I had a fight with Pietro the night before, or Duncan and his dumbasses  
beat me up, or say it was because another mutant was shot down in the street. Big news,  
things like that last one. Bounty hunters now chase us. A mutant, dead or alive, is worth a  
few G's nowadays. Not a bad living for mutant haters.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
My anger is what feeds my days. By sunset I'm worn, tired, aching, and almost blissful.  
For a hour until I walk home I'm happy with myself and my world. Then once I walk  
inside that door I'm back to being the Toad again, alone and unwanted.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
I wonder whatever happened to Julie-Marie and the kids. They don't live in the building  
anymore. I know, I checked. I miss them. They were my real family. Most days I skipped  
school to score some cash through pickpocketing and begging just to get food on the  
table. Julie didn't like it, but it was that or starve. Her ex-husband had left her with  
nothing except a four year old and twin two year olds and fifty bucks. My mama used to  
help her out when she could. Julie told me stories of my mama saving her from the Social  
Services and with her debts. A real angel. That's why I find it hard to believe she  
abandoned me.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
It's dark now. I can barely see the backboard. It's a new moon-- there's gonna be another  
war tonight. Maybe a death or two. I should leave, but I got so much anger still needed to  
be worked out. The others wouldn't care too much. I'd be out of their way for a while.  
They know I come here, but I leave them alone so they don't bother me. It's a nice trade,  
for both of us. I guess this is what a Danger Room session is like. The X-Geeks complain  
about 'em all the time in school.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
I don't really care for any of the X-Geeks. Scott's a stiff, Jean's a bitch, Evan's too sporty  
for me, Kurt's just weird, and Kitty basically screamed 'Eww!' when she first met me.  
Rogue was pretty cool, but I never talk to her anymore. She was alright but had a temper  
like Mystique. The new recruits I know nothing of.   
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
Sometimes I wish I was like them, though. They have a nice big mansion, three full meals  
a day, soft beds and big rooms, and people who actually care about them. Mystique don't  
really give a damn about us, as she made very clear in no uncertain terms. She comes  
closest to liking any of us with Wanda. Probably because she handed us our first victory.  
But the rest of us are just useless.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
Wanda's a mystery to me. She hides in her room or storms around with that woman. She  
has a lot of pain in her, that much is obvious. Pietro explained to us their story. He  
actually does care about her, but she's so blind with fury. We just keep out of it. When it  
comes to family, we know nothing of it. Lance is an orphan, born into children's homes  
and abusive families. Fred was left in care of one of the owners of Monster Trucks, hence  
him being in the show. My story you know. Tabitha keeps her past in the past, where she  
says it belongs.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
I guess I didn't tell you Tabby came back. So far she's been the best at reaching to  
Wanda. Well, the others and myself just stay out her way, so we don't make much  
progress. But Tabby has only been Hex Absorbed once so far, and Wanda's been with us  
for almost two weeks.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
Uh-oh, I see a black car cruisin' the streets. I should really pack up and head home. But  
here I feel safe, like nothing can harm me. It's stupid, but I don't really care. I continue to  
slamdunk, feint, and pivot. I'm getting dehydrated again, so I pause long enough to down  
some Gatorade I stole. I don't often, using water normally, but this was the last night of  
summer vacation. Tomorrow it would be getting ready to go back to school the next day.  
We were thinking of ditching, but being as bored as we were, we decided to go and wreck  
some havoc.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
I can't stop now. If I were to, I would collapse and never get up. Just lay there why gangs  
fought, thieves stole, and mamas prayed for their sons and daughters safety. The hookers  
would be out, hoping tonight they wouldn't fall victim to some freak's sadistic mind, but  
knowing they needed the money to survive. Cops would be avoiding this place as much  
as possible, not daring to set one foot inside the area. Drug dealers would be dealin',  
buyers would be being. In this environment I kept on playing my basketball.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
It was getting cold out now. It soared to almost a hundred today as usual, but here at night  
it became cold. The blacktop would still be warm, but cold breezes sweep through the  
city. Here in these last few days of August the tell-tale signs of fall were showing up more  
and more. Up here in New York State the fall came early and fast, especially in this area.  
The harbor a few dozen miles from here would keep the days warm, but the nights would  
succumb to cold temperatures. And here I was, in torn jeans and a tank top. I would be  
freezing soon if I didn't get going. But I didn't want to leave.  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
This poor ball. It has been beat against the ground for the past eighty-some days,  
constantly. It's worn smooth from all of that playing. It's slippery now, from all my  
sweat. I am thoroughly soaked, and I'm gonna reek when I finally stop. I hope the  
showers still work at home, because contrary to popular belief, water does not make my  
smell worse. It doesn't help it, but doesn't make it worse. And that's the natural stuff. A  
long, hot shower would get rid of the scent of sweat. I know, it has before, to the utter  
amazement of the others.   
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
Gunshots ring out, and they sound close. But still I only pause for a moment to listen  
before continuing. I just don't care about anything right now. I can't. I just have to keep  
playing, or else the world will come crashing back to me. Full force and with no mercy. I  
would rather die right now than be taken out of this reverie.  
  
  
_Slam_  
  
  
Perhaps that is a little extreme, but it proves my point. So I play harder. My muscles  
scream at me to stop, but I ignore them and play harder still. And harder. I slam the ball  
with all its worth, over and over......  
  
  
_Slam  
  
  
Slam  
  
  
Slam_  
  
  
I kept going harder and harder until finally, using every ounce of strength, I broke the  
backboard and the rim off the pole. It splinters and crashes down beside me. I let the ball  
roll away as I let myself collapse to my knees. My breathing is rough and uneven, my  
muscles ache excruciating pain, my head is pounding, my heart going so fast I can't count  
the beats..... And finally, I am in pure bliss. 


End file.
